


The Safety of Post-Heroism

by just_a_loser



Series: Regressuary 2020 [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, CGRE - Caregiver/Age Regressor, Fluff, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Sexual Age Play, Regressuary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_a_loser/pseuds/just_a_loser
Summary: Link takes pleasure in the smallest of things. He deserves it, after all.
Series: Regressuary 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620436
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82
Collections: Regressuary, Regressuary 2020





	The Safety of Post-Heroism

**Author's Note:**

> And so it begins! This is my first time doing Regressuary and I'm thrilled to continue!

He was the hero of Hyrule. Now that the evil had been defeated, things were calm. A monster here and there, but not nearly as many as there’d been in the time of the calamity. Princess Zelda resided in the castle, and though she would’ve liked to have Link there as well, she’d agreed to allow him to take up residence where he pleased. And so he returned to his home in Hateno Village, living a simple life. He deserved it, after saving all of Hyrule. 

Link didn’t tend to wander far from the village often, even now that Hyrule was safe. It was rare that one could visit Hateno and not find the hero. One could say he found comfort in the familiarity. He often helped the farmers in the village, all of which appreciated the company. He wouldn’t accept payment of course, finding satisfaction in doing a good day’s work. He earned his money instead by selling goods, which he acquired from the nearby forest. He’d wander in around midday, looking for flowers and mushrooms to pick. Often he’d stop at a clearing in the trees and lie on his back. He’d close his eyes and feel the fresh air wash over him, refreshing him in a way nothing else could. In that moment, there wasn’t a thought in his mind. No worries, no obligations, he just was. Then he’d open his eyes and stare up at the clouds, trying to find shapes in them. And if he couldn’t, he’d simply watch them swirl peacefully. Once he’d had his fill, he’d return to the village, often with a flower in his hair and a serene smile on his face. The village guard had become quite fond of him (not that anyone hadn’t) and looked forward to this time of day, simply to see that light in the hero’s eyes. 

The village kids would often ask him to play with them before dinner time, and how could he resist? With no other worries, he had all the time in the world to play. The villagers would smile as he ran past, a small group of kids on his tail. And if someone found him tucked behind a row of pots? They sure wouldn’t give away his position. It was obvious he enjoyed it, the simplicity of these inconsequential games. And the villagers enjoyed seeing him so at peace. 

Dinner time would roll around, and everyone would gather around the cooking pot in the town center. The village felt like a family, and it was. Everyone would sit outside to eat, talking and laughing and enjoying one another’s company. And after their bellies were full and their parents returned to their commitments, the children would gather around the town elder to listen to her stories. No one minded that Link joined as well, taking a spot in back to listen as the woman wove tales of wonder from many years past. She made some up as well, of dragons and fairies and lynels. And Link would gasp at every twist, his eyes as wide as any child’s. The elder would catch his eye and hers would soften, her lips twitching upward as she spoke.

And when the sky began to darken, when the woman finished her recountings, the children would scamper off to their homes, Link among them. He’d cross the bridge to his house, where each and every evening he’d find Bolson and Karson sitting outside by the fire. He’d take his place between them on the grass, listening to them talk to each other and to him. Sometimes he’d take a finger and draw in the patch of dirt beside the fireplace. If they were in the mood, he’d play pat-a-cake with Karson, who’d taught him the moment he’d discovered Link didn’t know how. Bolson would talk of his early days of construction, before he’d come to Hateno. Both sets of eyes would lock onto him, enamored by his tales. And construction advice. They’d reminisce about the days before Hudson left, wishing he’d stop by more often. 

And when the first stars started to twinkle, the pair would wish Link a good night and head off to their own home. Link would wave them goodbye, and most nights, head inside. But there were a few that he’d make his way past the field and to a certain purple balloon stand on the nights it would show up. He’d made a request to Kilton a while back, and the seller had gladly obliged, scolding himself for not thinking of the idea on his own. Link had brought with him a sack full of chuchu jelly to ensure he had the mon when his request had been fulfilled for the next time Kilton came round. And he did. The next week, Link left with a plush bokoblin tucked under his arm. The craftsmanship was great, as he knew it would be since purchasing the masks oh so long ago. He loved the little button eyes, the way its head would wobble on its shoulders at the slightest movement. Before long he had the whole collection, though his favorite was still the bokoblin. With each addition he’d add it to his bed, all in a line to lay beside him as he slept. Except for the bokoblin, which slept securely in his arms. 

And securely he would sleep, fully content with his life. He was the hero of Hyrule, but more than that, he was simply a Hylian, a Hylian that loved the simple things in life. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little rusty with my writing skills, don't judge me too harshly!
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr! https://justaloser-writes.tumblr.com/


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